


Assassin's Creed Syndicate: Diametric

by Jxcob_Frye



Series: Assassin's Creed Syndicate: Diametric [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Action, Adventure, Assassination, Cambridge, F/M, Industrial Revolution, Jacob Frye - Freeform, London, Love, Lust, Romance, Sex, Victorian, Video Game, Violence, assassins creed, assassins creed syndicate - Freeform, jacob frye x reader, jacob frye/reader - Freeform, reader x character - Freeform, victorian london
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jxcob_Frye/pseuds/Jxcob_Frye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Jacob x Reader]</p><p>During a time of great oppression, a time of invention, a time of great supremacy to the more wealthy, you learn that despite being a rich girl from Cambridge who once looked down at the poor, that even the poor need to be free.</p><p>You are a well educated girl from a wealthy family of Cambridge, who had everything you wanted, whenever you wanted, just at the click of your fingers. But when your father eventually passes away, and inherits his apothecary to you, you discover that life in London isn't as simple as it seems. Especially not when a gang called the Blighters threaten your business.</p><p>When you meet the Frye twins, things may seem to look up, but only for a short while as you get drawn into the fight against oppression, and against the most powerful man of London, Crawford Starrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Cambridge

How did you get here? In the epiphany of failure as your head rang agonisingly. Lights from the unknown powered down around you. And you, stuck in the centre of a hazy nightmare.

Was it a nightmare? Or was it the unforgivable reality? As the powerful hands grasped around the neck of the one you hold so close to your heart, draining the life out of him with each passing second.

Your gaze plunged into darkness, the only thought in your head, was how the hell did you get here?

 

_March 1868_

 

"Come on [y/n], we haven't got time to lounge around in bed all morning," The heavy set curtains were drawn, pouring in the orange hues of light from the dewy sun.

With a groan, you threw the linen sheets over you sleep weighted eyes, which soon was torn away, allowing light to power down painfully on your eyes.

"Now, [y/n]!" The voice scolded once more, forcing you to rise from your mattress with a grunt, "You are not missing your picnic with Mr Matthews,"

Your eyes cracked open against the blinding sun rays and gradually adjusted to form your mothers features. She looked very much like yourself, but a lot more matured in her years.

"If Mr Matthews is to marry me, then he will have to wait as long as it takes for me to wake up and be ready," You sighed loud enough for your mother to hear, despising the fact that she went ahead with planning who you are to marry.

"Mr Matthews will wait because he's a gentleman, but he won't be pleased, you should aim to impress-"

"Impress? So I cannot be myself? What sort of life would that leave me with?" You exclaimed distastefully. Your hatred for marriage was purely caused by the need to set a good reputation and act unnatural. What was wrong with saying as you please and acting how you want?

"A life of a good marriage and security to your status and wealth," Your mother began to lose her patience as her voice rose, "Just ready yourself child, you have no say in what has already been arranged for you,"

Once she exited your room, you fell back against your duck feather filled pillow with an exaggerated sigh. Why marry for the sake of security? What was wrong with marrying for the sake of love? With a shake of your head, you readied yourself to merely keep your mother at peace.

A dress of baby blue silk adorned your bodice, accentuating your curvaceous, corseted figure with a slight bustle at the back. Your mother insisted you wore your best dress, to 'impress' Mr Matthews and to represent your wealth. If it was down to you, you would have diminished the many layers that buried your frame and weakened your ability to breathe, and replace it with a simple chemise dress or a shirt and trousers.

And so you continued to please your mother by trying to 'impress' Mr Matthews. Through his constant ramblings, you tried, with all your strength, to surpass your yawns and act interested.

You nodded and smiled to make it seem like his boasting about his business was even an ounce intriguing. But in reality, as you sat on the blanket, a sandwich between your fingers and the spring Cambridge sun powering down upon you, you couldn't give a damn. All you wanted was to rid yourself of his presence. You was utterly relieved when it was time to separate ways, and as you closed the door to your house, your head fell back against the door with a heavy sigh.

"Thank god for that," You said quietly under your breath. Your mother appeared suddenly from the drawing room down the hall, a letter in hand which was dismissed shortly as your mother asked about your day.

"I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than spend another second with that man," You said, with a brutal honesty that made your mothers smile fall quickly from her face.

"Well you better grow to like him as you will be marrying him soon enough," You rolled your eyes at her persistence.

Her hand then outstretched as she held the letter out towards you,"This has come for you,"

Brows furrowing, you took the letter and opened it hesitantly. It was very rare that you received any letters, so as you tore the envelope open and read each scribble of the letter, you read it carefully, trying to make some sense of it.

Your eyes widened and lifted to your mothers questioning eyes.

"Father had passed away...I'm going to London,"


	2. Chapter 2: The Arrival

King's Cross Station was dense with a sea of people, all hastening along the platforms to their required destination. You stepped off the train in a state of wonderment. All the hustle and bustle of the place was nerving, could you really get used to this lifestyle?

Relieved from the density of the station, you stepped out into the street, and your [e/c] eyes gazed upon the enormity of London. It was so much grander than Cambridge, and the thickness of the air kicked hard at your throat, causing you to splutter out a cough.

"Miss [y/l/n]?" A voice rose from the sound of carriages passing by and the voices of Londoners, your head swivelled towards the voice.

A man atop a black carriage with red features dressing its woodwork, looked down upon you, and you realised he was addressing you.

"Are you Miss [y/l/n]?" He asked once more, and you quickly nodded as you made your way over towards him. The man jumped down from the seat and with a small smile, took your cases from your hands.

You waited patiently for him to finish, and once he did, he opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you into the carriage.

The journey to your father's apartment was one full of nervousness as you did not know what to expect. You hardly knew your father for he left for London when you were only a small child, he'd left your mother for some other woman, which you did not blame him for, as your mother was definitely hard work. Though, you felt hurt that he'd not made the effort to come and see you.

Your eyes watched as London passed by. You felt a foreigner in such a large and intimidating place. Though you had seen paintings of the landmarks that your eyes casted upon, you felt you knew little of London, and with that, you let out a staggered sigh.

The carriage came to a gradual halt outside your fathers apartment, which was above your fathers shop, an apothecary. The shops exterior was run down, and you knew that a redecoration was in order.

Inside was no better, it was like your father had refused to make any sort of improvements to the place, but now the shop was inherited to you, you decided you were to change the place around a bit. Starting with the outside, maybe with a lick of paint and a change around in the display, maybe you could keep the business on a high.

Up in the apartment, the place radiated masculinity, with no feminine touch in the decoration or with the smell. In the end, you let out a sigh as you gave up on expecting something to the standards you were used to.

"You certainly had bad taste, father," You muttered under your breath, making your way over to the desk in the corner of the room, and your eyes skimmed over the paperwork laid down upon the chipped wooden surface.

With furrowed brows, your eyes read the words carefully. Bills. In debt?

"Why did I not know about this?" You said a little louder to yourself, your eyes continuing to take in the words printed in the parchment.

"Indebted to whom!?"

Finally your eyes came across a name that you had never seen before, Crawford Starrick. You didn't know the man, nor did you understand why your father, or should you now say you, were indebted to Starrick.

Your eyes widened at the enormity of the debt, £1000. You didn't have that sort of money, not even with the wealth of your family and the inherited riches you received. It wasn't enough to pay a debt and to survive off.

Suddenly a sickening feeling churned in the pit of your stomach. Maybe if you spoke to this Starrick person, you could explain about your situation and let you off for a while whilst you get the business going. You planned a visit in the next day or so.

 

-

 

Your night was less than unsettling. The unfamiliar surroundings and the rather uncomfortable bed made it hard for you to have a decent nights sleep.

Just as you were beginning to feel yourself be taken by your exhaustion, there came a loud smash from downstairs in the apothecary. Your [e/c] eyes shot open and your body froze into place.

Muffled voices were heard through the quietened rummaging and crashing of bottles and desks. Your heart pounded hard against your chest, hoping that the intruders knew nothing of your presence at that moment in time.

Your fingers grasped tighter at your bed sheets as you laid frozen in your bed, your breath held in, in fear that they may hear you, despite being passed many locked doors.

A few moments went by, the intruders destruction ceased to a halt as they let out a proud chuckle, then they disappeared out the apothecary, their work now complete.

Feeling now safe to breath again, you let out a staggered sigh of both fright and relief that they had now gone, and you plucked up the courage to investigate.

With your candle in hand, you tip toed down the stairs, each creak making you cringe in fear that they may still be inside. As soon as you pushed the door to the apothecary open, tears flooded your eyes immediately to the state of the shop.

Glasses and medicines were scattered upon the stone surface of the floor and the glass cupboard doors were smashed or torn from the hinges. All your fathers hard work was put to waste in a single moment, and it tugged at your heart painfully.

As your eye wandered, it soon settled down upon a small note pinned down upon the counter by a small dagger wedged deep within the wooden surface.

Carefully, you trudged your way over to the counter to read the note.

_Starrick doesn't like to be kept waiting. His fellow Blighters left a little message. If he doesn't receive his money soon, something far worse will happen. Tick tock._


	3. Chapter 3: Chief Inspector Abberline

"What can I do for you, Young Miss?"

You stood at the dark mahogany desk, behind it a policeman with his blue suited uniform and his black hat. You shuffled from one foot to the other, the previous night events had shaken you to the core.

"I'd like to report a crime," Your voice was slightly wavered but strong, you wanted the police to take you seriously, and not treat you like a scared little girl.

"And what would that be?" 

With your hand now buried into your pocket, you pulled out the folded note that was left behind by the intruders who named themselves the Blighters. With your hand outstretched, the policeman took it from your fingers and read it.

"Well Miss-"

"[y/l/n]" You interrupted, making the policeman look up with a cocked brow.

"Miss [y/l/n]... It appears you are in a bit of a sticky situation, this gang is being handled by our Chief Inspector, maybe he could help," He shrugged and rose to his feet, "Please wait here a moment. Take a seat if you want,"

You did so as you lowered down into the dark wooden rickety chair. As you waited, your eyes gazed around the room. The wallpaper was a dull light green and the room was dimly decorated with dark wooden panelling and shelves, with a grandfather clock in the corner and books and files scattered around the room. It was all in a messily organised state, something you could only gaze at for a moment, it was definitely a masculine room. 

Your head turned as the door to the office creaked, and a man with dark hair that matched his large dark moustache came striding in.

"Miss [y/l/n], you are having problems with the Blighters, so I'm told," the man said as he looked up from the note he had now in his hands.

"I am," 

"My name is Chief Inspector Frederick Abberline," He held out his hand and you took it to shake his hand, "Please, tell me what the Blighters have done,"

Once Abberline sat down, you straightened in the seat and began, "I arrived in London only yesterday to take over my father's apothecary. He recently passed away, you see. And I found documents of my Father's debt, £1000. I didn't know anything nor did I know how long my father had left it. But I can see now the extent of his debt as these... Blighters, have now desolated the shop, leaving that note on the counter,"

Abberline listened intently, the occasional nod here and there to acknowledge what you were saying. Then with a deep inhale through his nose, he put his elbows upon the desk and looked into your eyes.

"Miss [y/l/n], did you bring these documents?" He asked, and you nodded as you once more buried your hand into your pocket, producing the documents he asked for.

With a thorough read through, he spoke with a shake of his head, "It appears that your father has been under the protection of the Blighters, and selling into the black market,"

"So what does that mean for me?" You said with a frown, a slight fear in your voice.

"It means that until you pay them your debt, you will be seeing regular visits," Abberline lifted his eyes up to your [e/c] ones, "But, I could get someone to sort the problem out a lot quicker if you would so wish to?"

"Yes, anything so I can run the business in peace... I haven't the money to pay this Starrick person," You felt a little more relieved knowing that someone can help you.

"His name is Jacob Frye, I will ask him to drop by as soon as possible, but for now, please sit tight," Abberline said as he rose to his feet, collected the documents and note that you had brought along with you, and handed them back over to you.

"Thank you very much Inspector," You gave him a small smile and turned to leave.


	4. Mr Frye

A knock on the door roused you from your light slumber, the dewy morning sun of London shone through the cracks in your blackout curtains. A groan emitted from your throat as your eyes cracked open against the suns orange beams of light, seeking out the clock on your bedside table to check the time.

7 o'clock.

It was too damn early for your liking that you then decided to ignore whoever it was and snuggle back into your feather pillow. However, another knock, louder than those before, echoed through the corridors of your house.

"Christ," You muttered under your breath as you shuffled to the edge of the bed and rose to your feet. You looked utterly dishevelled from the lack of decent sleep, your hair was in dismay and dark under eye circles drained your features. With a stretch, you headed over to your bedroom door as you grasped your silken dressing gown and made your way down to the front door.

As you opened the wooden door, painted a fine green colour to match the exterior of the shop, your eyes were met with a man leaning against the door frame. His frame was tall, accentuated by his top hat, and masked with a long leather jacket. His face was chiselled with his sharp jawline and defining stubble. He looked a rough and ready type of man, yet rather handsome none the less.

"Miss [y/l/n], I hear you're in need of assistance," The man spoke with a rather cool yet calm tone, all of which immediately grated at your nerves.

"You must be Mr-"

"Frye, Jacob Frye," He finished, a smug smirk present upon his lips. You scowled faintly towards him, already you disliked his cocky demeanour.

"Pleasure to meet you," You said flatly, but Jacob put his hand upon his chest and lean't towards you slightly.

"Oh the pleasures all mine, Miss [y/l/n]," He grinned. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the door a little wider for him to enter into the hallway, "Follow me,"

With a slight spring in his step, he followed after you into the apothecary and his eyes flickered around the destruction that the Blighters had created. Followed by a raise of his brows, he wandered around the shop, seemingly looking over the extent of the damage.

"Well,  they certainly have a grudge against you, don't they?" He said with a slight chuckle which made you frown. What was so funny about the situation you were now in?

"It's not a grudge against me, actually, but against my father," You corrected sternly, and Jacob nodded as though he'd forgot.

"Aaah yes, he bargained with the Blighters, how very bloody clever of him," He said as he picked up the note that she had put back down on the desk where she found it for him to investigate, and he read it with a shake of his head.

"Excuse me? I don't know how you have the audacity to say such a thing!" You exclaimed, a little taken back by his rudeness. However, he seemingly dismissed you as his eyes skimmed around.

"I think i know where to find the ones who wrecked the shop, stay here eh?" He said with a cocked smile.

"Wait w-" Before you could find out exactly what he was about to do, he strode quickly out of the shop leaving you alone.

3 hours had passed since Jacob had exited the store with haste to rid the Blighters who demolished the shop, and you busied yourself with cleaning up the broken glass and the dust that had gathered since your father's death. You were half way through sweeping the floor when the door groaned, signalling someones arrival. Your head swivelled around to see Jacob, his robes now covered in splashes of red crimson blood which made your eyes widen in shock.

"Is that your blood?" You asked quietly, but when he shook his head, your eyes widened even more.

"No no, not mine," His reply was nonchalant, almost carefree to what his previous actions were.

"I have found your offenders," He said with a smug smile, proud that he had done something accomplishing.

"Y-you killed them?!" You exclaimed in disbelief, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

"Unfortunately not, I have found where they might be hiding, but I killed some Blighters along the way," He chuckled. That was it, that was your trigger point, and your voice rose higher than it ever had done before, in front of him.

"You can't go around killing people!"

A frown set upon his brow at your raised voice, "If you haven't figured out yet, those Blighters are anything but merciful, so why should I?"

"Because it's the most humane thing to do," You shrugged your shoulders as though it was blatantly obvious, but clearly not for Jacob.

"What the most humane thing to do is to kill those bastard and save the innocent people from their wrath," He growled, growing ever angrier as you questioned his actions against the gang.

"Fighting wrath with wrath, yes well done, what a brilliant idea that is!"

Jacob's lips went into a fine line as he shifted his weight, seemingly trying to hold back the words that wanted to burst out past his lips. Instead, with a calm tone, he spoke, "Next time you want to co-operate with me and let me get on with my work, then send for me,"

With a slight cock to his head, he turned on his heels and walked out of the shop. His feet pounded hard against the wooden floor boards and his fingers curled into angered fists.

You were left alone once more to wallow in the anger that coursed through your veins. How could one be so brash and brutal as to go around killing men. Even if they were not so innocent, was there any right? Was it within the law for him to do so?

With little knowledge came little understanding, and with a huff, you decided to carry on with the task you had appointed yourself to clean up the apothecary.


End file.
